Poetry 3

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Poetry 3

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YOUR Poetry to the Survivors Art Foundation

Neva LaRue
[email protected]
“Mother, grandmother, free and happy.
Sexual abuse survivor and domestic violence survivor … emphasis on survivor. I
am so blessed.” See also her Short

by Neva LaRue Brown

My life, governed by hate and fear
For so long a violent, ticking bomb
That exploded over and over again
In that euphemistic educated phrase
Domestic Violence.
Days and nights of fear, pain, anger,
Bruises, blood, terror and seemingly never ending
Nightmares filled with images of his face and fists.
Time didn’t seem to diminish the nights of horror
Even though my days grow ever stronger.
You have become so much a part of my growth
My stuttering, gradual return to sanity
It only seems natural that when
In the whisper soft velvet of night
I wake, shattered with fear
There you are, your voice soft, patient, loving,
Whispering, “It’s ok… you’re ok…”
And then, in the tender circle of your arms, I am.

©nlb May 21, 1998
Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

Mid Life Crisis
by Neva LaRue Brown

His injury is benign, though deadly being incrementally
reduced by life most of the time too burned out for more than rattled reflections
on the day gone past. Somehow on the road to conquering his future while life went
on in familiar torment he spent far too much time in the mean little business of

When he was drawn in primal wonder led to the awful
doomed inquiry of his middle years when the harpy’s voice whispering in dreams, at
quiet sunrise, at those unforeseen instants of drilling isolation asking with unflagging
persistence Is this as happy as he will ever be? Does he have the right to just a
little more? Or is there really nothing better to hope for?

He waits, as he often does silently hoping some
alternative forceful thought or feeling will expose some less ambivalent truth then
the life he has become, where choice and need seem indistinguishable and he watches
his life being determined by those who seem not to know his soul and the aching need
that roils within.

But choices don’t really exist in the way he thought
they would when he was a child and expected the regal power of adulthood to provide
clarity and insight, so now questions remain whose answers he hungers for. Instead,
he finds himself clutched by resentment, loss, numbness; paralyzed victim of circumstance
and time.

©nlb March 18, 1996
Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

The Right One

The windswept heart seeks solace in love but so
many times what happens is a mismatch and one loves more or not at all and the pain
is great but not endless. For each of us there is another the right one to calm the
storm that rages inside and fear subsides leaving in its place a space unbounded
by the limited confines of time or space.
It can happen at 40 or 60 or 80 and still feel as fine as if it had existed from
the first moment of the universe’s evolution and if you’re very wise what you do
is learn to cherish and value all that luck and fate have offered as a gift.

©nlb July 24, 1996
Copyrighted material; do not reprint without permission.

V. Harrison

Ms. Harrison has been diagnosed with learning disability,
attention deficit disorder, memory loss and PTSD. I have fallen between the cracks
all my life with no seeing eye dog or support system. Poetry is my communication.

by Wendy V. Harrison

Lovingly planted on this earth
I pensively ask
What is my REAL worth

Stamped with a pedigree
I was never really free
Marriage provided unconditional love
Abundantly blessed
By God above

Children brought challenges galore
Their antics I do adore

Faced with an empty nest
I know now what is best

Where o where do I belong
I am biflip
Active and debonaire, yet at times with out a care

So much to see and do
Mountains to climb, vistas to explore
Excitement as never before

Debutant, woman, Alien
Truely a unique specimen

by Wendy Harrison


Cracked at birth
I oft times wonder
Whats my real worth

My mind
Takes an alternate route
Scurring and scrambling no doubt


My ears hear
Gods words on tape
My eyes see
Gods company

My mind repaired
By a God who cared
How I fared
Thus His healing shared


by Wendy Harrison

I emerged from the woman
All spanking new and blue
My home become my prison, my tomb

I alone held the golden key
The inside of me to see

My computer banks locked
Happy memories locked

Only images, barbs and negatives
Are all that survived
For me to revive

Anger and rage did seethe
Oft times I could not breathe

Battered Broken and shattered
I oft asked
What truely mattered

Yet through the Dacau
For me to bloom
I would not allow

A higher power has freed me from my prison tower
A survivor – a woman who will not cower

Alicha Price
Alicha PriceMs. Price’s above page “is dedicated to all persons that have been
ravaged by the devastation of abuse. It is for like souls who seek freedom from these
atrocities. Let my voice be heard … in some way let the silence be broken. In this
space you will hear the music of my heart, and the sorrow of my soul captured …
readily awaiting your perusal. My words speak of pain, joy, love, betrayal, desire,
anger, the heart, and the many emotions experienced in this life journey.” Please
visit her above page for more of her poetry.

I Hear Your Voice
by Alicha Price

Shall my words become a guide,
For those whose voices go unspoken?
For those who’ve traveled a narrow solitary road,
Shall a wider, less perilous path be broken?

Will you realize you’re not alone,
When I tell my story true…
If I make myself vulnerable
Revealing heart and soul to you?

For far too long our pain’s gone unseen.
For far too long our voices fallen silently.
So, my purpose is to make us known..
No longer shall others deny us our reality

No longer shall we go unheard,
Nor permit others to make our choice.
No longer, in darkness shall we hide,
For in every word I speak, sonorously…
“I Hear Your Voice”

I Was Just A Child
by Alicha Price

I was just a child.
I didn’t have dreams.
I didn’t know
what I wanted for the future.
I just wanted you to go,
but you still took me away.
Why did you ever have to come,
for you brought the pain.
I was just a child,
but I knew to hide,
and I knew to lie,
Anything to rid myself of you.
To get away
from the hurt to come,
for you always hurt me.

And I thought there was
something wrong with me.
Maybe I was as evil
as you said I was.
And that scared me.
I didn’t want the devil to get me.
But now I know,
With all the things I did,
All the pain I accepted,
All the tears I cried,
And the hatred I felt,
I was still just a child.

by Alicha Price

There’s a little lost girl inside
that reaches out.
as she did so long ago.
She wanted love, affection, and attention,
but instead she was swallowed up in your depravity.

She cries.
Now, it’s okay
She laughs.
And it’s real laughter.
She rocks me to sleep
when there’s no other comforting hand.
She listens to my sorrow,
for there is much to tell.
And still she wants love and approval.

What you took…

My smile,
the laughter in my eyes,
the joy of closeness and hugs.
You misconstrued boundaries,
leaving me puzzled and alone
afraid of reaching out
because again I would hurt.
I can’t remember joy
that was not overshadowed
by pain sorrow or fear.
I can’t touch my children
and have them touch me
without the lingering fear
of doing something wrong,
or making them into sick individuals.

What did you take?

You took all that I could have been,
my courage,
and my desire to live.
You took my love and tainted it.
You took my confidence…my sanity.

Maybe I could’ve been the singer, author…somebody.
You took my innocence,
my dreams…. the light.

Now I fight for reality,
my children,
oneness of self,
and the love of who I am.

I fight for truth,
my sanity,

by Alicha Price

With every kiss,
I eagerly opened to you my soul.
For every caress,
receiving love was my primary goal.
Each time I offered,
you took all I had to give,
leaving me drained
emotionally empty.
I gave freely,
hoping this time
some feeling would escape,
maybe I’d catch a remnant of your love.

Again Nothing.

In the end
I always felt incomplete,
knowing I was missing something,
feeling barren and still needing.
And I realized,
though I gave
and opened to you,
you took
and left nothing

Erika Rome
Ms. Rome is a survivor of sexual abuse.
Throughout her life, she has kept a journal and written poems, as well as doing visual
art. Thank you for doing this project and I hope that I can be of some help spreading
the word about the severity of childhood abuse.

To Whom It May Concern
by Erika Rome

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
too scared to cry
too frightened to move
too terrified to even take a breath

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
afraid of my own shadow
afraid of my own body
afraid of my own relatives

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who hates the words I like you
who hates the words I love you
who hates the words you are good

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who likes punishing herself
who like hitting herself
who likes cutting herself

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
dying to feel connected to someone else
dying to trust another person
dying to be freed from my demons within

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
holding a lifetime of special secrets inside
holding a lifetime of pain locked up inside
holding a lifetime of unmentionable guilt, shame and rage inside

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who needs to be treated with extra patience
who needs to find extra safe places to go
who needs extra reassurance of security

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who desperately needs to be hugged by someone safe
who desperately needs to be comforted by someone safe
who desperately needs to be held by someone safe

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who s afraid of the dark
who s afraid to take her clothes off
who s afraid her monsters are real

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who can t always keep her room clean
who can t always shower and get dressed
who can t always muster up enough energy to get out of bed

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who wishes she could disappear
who wishes she was never born
who wishes she could die

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
whose past is a nightmare
whose present seems lost
whose future seems bleak

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who feels she is bad and deserves bad things to happen to her
who feels her body is dirty, disgusting and betrayed her
who feels she is worthless and unlovable

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
scared of her neighborhood
scared of her family
scared of herself

To whom it may concern
I am a twenty year old child
who has spent the last 8 years in depression
who has spent the last 4 years in and out of hospitals
who has spent that last 20 years struggling with abuse memories

To whom it may concern
I am actually a twenty year old adult
filled with the terrors of a child
filled with the anguish of a child
filled with the hopes and dreams of a child
I don t know if any of this matters
but I just wanted to share it
with whom it may concern

by Erika Rome

As a child I thought physical beauty was bad
because people abused me for it
and made my life
one in which I am always sad.
I thought it was my fault
my childhood was denied
but with some help I m learning
that those that hurt me had lied.
I don t feel very worthy of anyone s love
I m told my heart and soul
are as beautiful and pure
as a flying white dove.
I m told that by just having survived and for being courageous
that I m incredibly special
and although I ve been hurt my strength has left me
with remarkable potential.
I know now that beauty isn t dependent on looks
and those that convinced me of that
and stole my sacred childhood were crooks.
I m searching for the beauty
that lies within my heart
but long felt hurts
have certainly left their damaging mark.
It s getting a little easier but
it s still hard at times to see
that I am beautiful
because I am me.

Guardian Angel
by Erika Rome

She came into my world
during a desperate time
when I didn t know
if I wanted to live
or wanted to die.
She showed me true kindness
and genuinely cared
she got me to tell her things
I had never shared.
She opened my heart
and touched my soul
I wonder if that was her goal.
She s helping me change
so I can finally be free
she s opening my eyes
to the things I just don t see.

She tells me that
she thinks I am good
and don t deserve to be so sad
but I can t help thinking
I m innately bad.
She believes in me
and thinks I have potential
but I wonder if she knows
she s really the one who is special.
She made me love her
I never wanted to care so much
why is it my heart she much touch?
It s been almost five years
since we met
and I ve never felt
a moment of regret.
She welcomed me with her eyes
and never once believed
that my abuse stories were lies.
When I feel like
I can t go on much longer
she s always there
helping me feel stronger.
I m growing on the inside
because of her concern
she s teaching me now the things
in childhood I never did learn.

I hate feeling like
I m getting too attached
but for the help I need right now
I think we ve been
perfectly matched.
I don t think I ll ever be ableto say thank you enough
how do you thank someonefor this kind of stuff?
There are many times I ve wanted
to give up this strenuous fight
but for all she s done for me
that just wouldn t be right.
I ve wished that I could protect myself
so that I am hard as stone
but there s no need to do that
because I am not alone.
I never really was by myself
but it s not always easy to see
that all I need to get by in this world
is to find the love and goodness within me.
She s helping to give me the strength
I never had before
I feel so much stronger
every time I see her
or walk through her door.

She s like a guardian angel
God would send from the sky
She even thinks
it s okay to cry.
She s changing my life
just by being in it
I ll always be grateful
for every single minute.
I can t wait for the day
when our therapy has ended
because I know it will be
my heart she has mended.
I know that Rose
is absolutely wonderful and completely good
and that she is helping me
like no one else ever could.

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